[ raleigh doesn't have to include the "me" for her to know that he's thinking it, and the reminder of what that means to him -- her going, and the way she'd wanted to, without so much of a goodbye, it...
it wrecks her.
naomi lifts her face from her hands and she just looks at him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes that she wipes at furiously with one palm because her free hand is now curled and white-knuckled over one of his.
she tries to speak, only to find her voice stuck in her throat because how the hell is she supposed to explain herself? what words are there to tell him that she's frightened that she's lost whatever place she had at his side -- that she wonders if she had it to begin with.
( she'd stood with the rest of the crowd at the kwoon, had felt the hum of excitement as each candidate stepped up to pit themselves against raleigh becket, their voices hushed with an awe that was leagues ahead of any hero-worship she'd ever heard from other jaeger flys. and while she had no context by which to hold it against, she could see how magnificent he'd looked, winning round after round.
and then the tempo of things changed. and something had crawled under her skin when she'd heard him call out mako for the way she was reacting; a thing she'd missed since she'd been so focused on watching him move.
don't look too distressed, doll. one of the rangers -- that australian boy -- had murmured, suddenly beside her, his eyes never once leaving the exchange of blows on the mat. you're a civilian, accept that a lot of this is going to fly over your pretty head.
he'd spared her one glance then, just one. and the weight in his eyes had shaken her. becket was wrong to bring you here. and if there was sympathy, she just knew she didn't want it. didn't need it. wouldn't accept it.
and by the time stacker pentecost yelled out enough, her fingers had curled into fists, her stomach plummetting when raleigh's voice called out she's my copilot like the closing of a door. )
she draws away from raleigh then, her arms coming around her because she feels like she's about to shatter apart. because she's a reporter, she doesn't belong here, just as raleigh hadn't belonged on that goddamned wall. ]
I have to go. [ she says softly, the simple phrase hinting at an undercurrent of grief that she's not sure she has any right to feel.
what business was is of hers to think that they stood on even ground? how could she have thought that she could possibly keep up when he could step into a jaeger and battle an incoming storm, while all she had were silly words and platitudes fed by the media machine.
she comes to her feet and turns her face away because it hurts to look at him. ]
no subject
it wrecks her.
naomi lifts her face from her hands and she just looks at him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes that she wipes at furiously with one palm because her free hand is now curled and white-knuckled over one of his.
she tries to speak, only to find her voice stuck in her throat because how the hell is she supposed to explain herself? what words are there to tell him that she's frightened that she's lost whatever place she had at his side -- that she wonders if she had it to begin with.
( she'd stood with the rest of the crowd at the kwoon, had felt the hum of excitement as each candidate stepped up to pit themselves against raleigh becket, their voices hushed with an awe that was leagues ahead of any hero-worship she'd ever heard from other jaeger flys. and while she had no context by which to hold it against, she could see how magnificent he'd looked, winning round after round.
and then the tempo of things changed. and something had crawled under her skin when she'd heard him call out mako for the way she was reacting; a thing she'd missed since she'd been so focused on watching him move.
don't look too distressed, doll. one of the rangers -- that australian boy -- had murmured, suddenly beside her, his eyes never once leaving the exchange of blows on the mat. you're a civilian, accept that a lot of this is going to fly over your pretty head.
he'd spared her one glance then, just one. and the weight in his eyes had shaken her. becket was wrong to bring you here. and if there was sympathy, she just knew she didn't want it. didn't need it. wouldn't accept it.
and by the time stacker pentecost yelled out enough, her fingers had curled into fists, her stomach plummetting when raleigh's voice called out she's my copilot like the closing of a door. )
she draws away from raleigh then, her arms coming around her because she feels like she's about to shatter apart. because she's a reporter, she doesn't belong here, just as raleigh hadn't belonged on that goddamned wall. ]
I have to go. [ she says softly, the simple phrase hinting at an undercurrent of grief that she's not sure she has any right to feel.
what business was is of hers to think that they stood on even ground? how could she have thought that she could possibly keep up when he could step into a jaeger and battle an incoming storm, while all she had were silly words and platitudes fed by the media machine.
she comes to her feet and turns her face away because it hurts to look at him. ]